Mocha Break

I love mochas! I feel rich and abundant whenever I have the creamy, hot, sweet chocolate with just a hint of the darkness of coffee. Sitting in coffee shops, drinking mochas is one of my favorite ways to spend my time – surrounded by warmth, the scent of brewing coffee, the sound of coffee grinders and cappuccino machines filling the air. That is a sensory experience of abundance for me.

At home, I like to start my day with a steamy mocha too. Even in the heat of summer, a mocha to start my day is delightful. At home, I use instant hot cocoa or flavored international coffee mixes and creamers to achieve the delectable delightfulness at any given moment, adding spices as I so desire and then slowly sipping it down with a grateful sigh. It is, indeed, my practice of drinking in the Divine, drinking in wealth, drinking in abundance.

This morning, as I prepared my mocha, I noticed something that I’ve noticed before but hadn’t given much thought. Given that I am incredibly open to feedback from the Universe right now and I’m learning in every moment, I gave pause to the noticing and added some wonder. The noticing: as I stirred, the coffee mixture clumped together and refused to break apart. In the past, I’ve just allowed it to drift to the bottom to become a gelatinous heap of goo lying there amidst the creaminess and I haven’t given it any further thought.

However, this morning, I paused and wondered about that goop and then I wondered why am I even paying any attention to it now?

If you’ve been following this blog for any given amount of time, then you’re already aware of where I “am” right now. If you’re new here, let me update you: I am a perennial student committed to empowering myself to live fully in my purpose.

Therefore, because of this commitment, I awoke to the lesson within this clump of coffee goo…

Here were the options, as I saw it in that moment:

Ignore the clump and allow it to sink to the bottom as I always do to be either A) sadly washed down the drain when I cleaned the mug or B) be swallowed on the last sip with a gag and a choke.

Keep stirring, hoping the swirling energy would dissolve the clump (all while knowing this tactic does not work because I have done it before.)

Try to forcefully break the clump.

Find an easier way.

Option one was no longer an option for me, now that I was awake to the magic lesson inside that mug. Neither was number two because I have tried that before. Numerous times. Doesn’t work.

I did, however, try number three. The results were messy. The clump scooted this way and that, collecting more liquid around itself to create a seemingly impenetrable armor that protected the wary powder inside. With the aggression of my actions, the clump eventually burst over the side of the mug, splatting on the floor. Mess.

I laughed as I wiped it up, hearing myself think, “Angie, when you approach a situation with violence and aggression, the result is… yes, you’ve got it… Violence and aggression.”

Oh yeah. Right!

I laughed and I laughed.

I approached the mug once again, knowing that I would have to replenish the mixture since most of it had just been wiped up from the floor and put into the garbage. The tablespoon of powder plopped onto the surface of the hot milk, hovering there for a moment. I could see the liquid gathering as a shell on the underside of the mix and crawling up the edges, sealing in the powder. Fascinated, I watched as the shell grew and grew until it was a solid, dark, shining mountain of chocolatey goodness.

Option number four this time. Find an easier way.

I began stirring gently, wondering what the easier way would be. It was a gentle motion, going around the exterior of the molehill in my mug, barely causing even a tremor in its surface. I stirred and I stirred. Then I tried gently pushing the hill beneath the surface. My thought was, if I get it beneath the surface gently, it will pop under the pressure.

Let me tell you, my friends, no matter how gently you push anything, it will eventually pop under the pressure and that is not an easier way to do it. AND it leads to messes. AND it also feels like an attack to that which is being “gently” pushed.

So, I stopped. Immediately. Because a part of me knew that was still not the easier way.

I kept stirring. Gently. And, slowly, the weight of the mountain’s shell began dragging it down to the bottom of my mug.

I kept stirring, knowing it was sitting there in the darkness, but I didn’t yet see the easier way.

Stirring.

Stirring.

Stirring.

Then, my spoon bumped into it and I felt the impulse to scoop underneath it and slowly raise it up through the hot liquid. Slowly my spoon rose until the molehill caused the surface of the milk to bulge and then my spoon broke free. There sat a gleaming mass of dripping goodness locked in this shell of melted mocha mix.

I waited. Breathless, I watched as the mountain began to tremble. The spoon was resting on the rim of the mug so I knew it wasn’t my hand that was making it move. I watched in awe as the shell began to crack and, suddenly, with an almost audible sigh, the shell broke away into the coffee mug with a ploppety-plop splash, leaving behind completely dry coffee mix.

And then I laughed.

Because, in my morning coffee, I learned… If you gently go beneath the surface and raise “it” up out of that in which it is mired, it will release its goodness from within and relax into its full glory.